


when i was seventeen (i couldn't seem to die)

by ftmpeter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Bittersweet Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heavy Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Temporary Character Death, concept: me not depressing literally everyone, it's exactly that, sorry about that, unfortunately tony is still dead, we are pretending ffh doesn’t exist thanks, y'all know that train station scene with harry and dumbledore in the deathly hallows?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21828535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftmpeter/pseuds/ftmpeter
Summary: It's a pretty shitty way to die, if he's being honest.Of course Tony has to be there too.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 18
Kudos: 99





	when i was seventeen (i couldn't seem to die)

It’s a pretty shitty way to die, if he’s being honest.

No glorious explosion, no heroic rescue of the day, just a dumb bank robbery gone wrong because a dumb bank robber got a bit too bold and dumb Spider-Man (or in reality, Peter, because he wasn’t in his suit, Peter, because he had only come so he could cash a check for May, Peter Parker, currently bleeding on a cold tile floor that smells of cleaning product and hand sanitizer) got a bullet right between the ribs just as the police were arriving. Just dumb Peter Parker hitting said floor a little too hard, enough to make his vision spin and head throb.

There’s bright flashing lights and people telling him to stay awake and things being connected to him as he’s loaded onto what feels like a rough bed. And he wants to stay awake, really. But everything hurts and everything is blurry and he’s tired. Peter is very, very tired. 

He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, he doesn’t know where he is.

All of the noise that had surrounded him seconds prior is gone, leaving only a faint ringing in his ears as proof that it was ever there at all. He’s standing in the middle of an empty street, which is unusual in of itself because New York is never empty. It doesn’t matter what time it is or what’s going on, if there’s a New York, there’s crowds. No ifs ands or buts about it.

Peter realizes, belatedly, that he knows this street. It’s on the way to the Avenger’s compound. Or used to be, anyway. 

Shoving down the inexplicable sadness that rises at the memory, Peter looks at his clothes in surprise. They’re different from the ones he last remembers wearing. Ben’s brown leather jacket hangs off his frame, too big to fit properly, as always. A basic gray t-shirt matches the overcast skies above him, and black skinny jeans with a few careless rips and tears hug his legs. He doesn’t know when he changed or how he even got here in the first place. When he tries to think back, a sharp pain shoots through his temples, making him wince.

"Hello?" Peter calls, voice cracking. He briefly stumbles on the concrete and almost trips over himself, but he manages to stay upright. His left side is aching, and he presses a hand to it without thinking. "Hello? Anyone?"

He pats his pants for his phone, but it’s not there. His wallet isn’t either, and when he grasps at his neck, expecting to at least feel the flimsy lanyard that’s attached to his student ID, he touches nothing but air.

_What the.._

Peter sees a flash of red in the corner of his eye, and he whirls around, defensive instincts kicking in. But instead of a threat, he’s greeted with the neon sign of Jack’s Diner.

Jack’s Diner is a small, affordable place that often gets ignored in favor of fancier, more established restaurants, but Peter loves it, mostly because they have the best damn cheeseburgers he’s ever had and their milkshakes are incredible. It’s also just rooted in good memories - Aunt May taking him there as a kid whenever possible, Tony doing the same years later on the weekends despite the possibility of paparazzi finding them, sometimes dragging a grumpy Happy along, them laughing over greasy plates of fries loaded with ketchup, the nice waitress sneaking him free ice cream - and the reminder of it fills him with nostalgia.

Before Peter can consider how strange it is that they’re open when any potential customer seems to not be in the area, he’s walking to the door and stepping in. It makes the familiar ring it always does, meant to alert the staff that someone has arrived. The smell of chicken tenders and grilled cheese sandwiches greets him, and it’s so comforting that for a moment, he forgets how weird the circumstances are.

It comes back to him when he realizes the place is just as vacant.

"Hello?" He calls again, sounding more and more like a lost toddler in search of their parents. Slowly approaching the register, he tries to peer into the kitchen, but it’s hard to see much of anything from where he is. "Uh, is anyone here?"

"Hi," someone says from behind him, and Peter jumps so hard that his knee hits the counter and he has to bite his tongue to stop from crying out. He turns to see who it is, fully intent on demanding answers to what the hell is going on, but he stops in his tracks.

"Don’t look so shocked," the man who can’t be Tony says, because Tony is dead and Peter is 99.9% certain that people who are dead can’t talk and _definitely_ can’t be casually standing a few feet away from him -

"T-Tony?" He breathes, suddenly feeling lightheaded. This can’t be happening. It’s been - it’s been almost a year now since.. since everything, since Titan, and this can’t be happening.

"The one and only."

It _is_.

He takes a step towards him, and that step leads to another one that leads into a full on sprint straight into Tony's chest with a resounding _oof._ They both stagger back, and Peter tries to pour all the thoughts racing through his head into the embrace. _I love you. I love you. I’m sorry. Why did you have to leave? Everywhere I go, I’m reminded of you._

He has to get oxygen eventually, so he slackens his grip microscopically. Tony gets the message and carefully untangles himself from his hold, but Peter can’t. He’s too overwhelmed.

"Wha - how - _what -_ "

"Let’s sit down," Tony says softly, leading them to the booth they would always pick if no one else had claimed it. Peter listens, falling unceremoniously into the seat. There’s a lull, until -

"How have you been?"

Peter stares at him. "What?"

"How have you been?" Tony seems amused, but does dutifully try to pretend otherwise. "I haven’t talked to you in.. in a while. I want to know how you’ve been."

"You haven’t _talked to me in a while?”_ He doesn’t mean to be harsh, but he’s been bottling up feelings for so long that it’s on the edge of overfilling. "You haven’t - you _died!_ You haven’t _existed_ in a while! So sorry if I’m finding it hard to talk!"

Peter takes a deep breath, lowering his head as embarrassment blooms uncomfortably in his chest. He doesn’t want to look up in case Tony is angry at him for snapping, but he does. He needs to see him.

"Why am I here?" He croaks.

An unrecognizable emotion flits across Tony’s face before quickly being pushed away. 

"I’m here too."

"But.. you’re dead."

"That I am."

"Am I dead too?" It’s a childish question, even to Peter, but that’s the thing - he doesn’t know. He feels like he’s being tugged in two opposite directions, and neither of them make sense.

"Depends on your definition."

Peter huffs. "Have you always been this vague, or is it a new thing?"

Tony barks out a laugh, and it’s such a foreign sound to Peter that it momentarily blindsides him. He never thought it’d get to a time where hearing his laugh is enough to feel like a physical blow, but here it is. It was a given part of Peter’s life for two years, and then it wasn’t. Just like that.

"Maybe. I don’t think I’m here to show you my newfound personality traits, though."

Peter frowns, the absurdity of everything that’s going on catching up to him. He looks out the window, wanting to see if there’s anyone there, but it’s impossible to see through the.. fog? It wasn’t there a few minutes ago, he’s sure of it.

Tony looks too, considering.

"I’m sorry," he finally says. "For, well, all of this. Hurting you. Dying. Bad move, I concede."

"As long as you agree," Peter mumbles. He fidgets with his jacket sleeve. "Everyone misses you."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. A lot of people call you a hero. For saving everyone."

"I feel like they might be the same people who called me a junkie loser back in my prime."

"Morgan calls you a hero," he says, and Tony shuts up. "I don’t.. I don’t think she completely gets what happened yet. She says you’re still off fighting the bad guys."

Tony is quiet for a very long time. Peter wants to apologize, but he speaks before he can.

"You’re here because you have two options."

Peter squints. "What?"

"A decision," Tony tells him, smiling slightly. He leans back, lacing his fingers together and gazing at Peter like he’s the only person ever worth looking at. "that only you can make. Of course, you know what I’d tell you to do, but that’s not what this is about, is it?"

"I have.. a choice?"

"Yup. You might not be aware of it, Pete, but you’re flat lining in an ambulance right now. Paramedics are trying to revive you. Death is serious business."

Peter shifts in his seat. He’s.. dead? It doesn’t feel like it. He hesitantly turns to look at his wrists, and traces the veins there lightly with his finger. They’re a bright blue, obvious against his pale skin. There’s a pulse there, a pulse beating at a steady rhythm, a testament to the fact that he’s supposed to be alive. How is he dead?

"This place.. it’s different," Tony explains, as if he can hear Peter’s thoughts. Maybe he can. "Not everything is real here."

Peter swallows, pulling on the collar of his shirt nervously. "Then how.. how do I know you are? Real, I mean. What if this is just inside my head?"

The colors of the fog outside the window are mixing, flaming reds and oranges twisting with unforgiving greens and yellows until it all blends into one that Peter doesn’t recognize. He almost wants to reach forward and grasp it, feel it underneath his palm, but he manages to restrain himself.

Tony smiles for real this time, and Peter involuntarily begins to memorize every part of it, from the way his nose crinkles to the way it makes a certain kind of warmth appear in his eyes. "You’re right, of course. It could be in your head. But why would that make it any less real?"

He doesn’t know how to answer that.

"It’s a choice," Tony continues. "You can stay here, with me. Order that vanilla milkshake you like so much. We’d be okay."

Peter thinks he’s not going to like what's next. "Or?"

"Or.. you can go back."

It’s still. "Back?"

"Back. Back to, well, life. To everyone down there. Back to yourself. You’d be okay there, too. It might take a while, but you would be."

The real meaning behind what he’s saying hits Peter like a brick. 

He could save himself. He could. He hasn’t even graduated high school yet. He still has stuff left for him to do. He could live, like he’s meant to.

Or.. he could follow Tony. He could finally rest. He could wrap himself in the blanket that they always used on movie nights and finally drift off, peaceful and content. He could curl up, let everything else fade away until all he feels is strong arms holding him and unwavering protectiveness.

Tony. He could have Tony back. After all these months, he could have him back. Forever.

 _What about May?_ His mind supplies harshly, and he flinches. _What about her? You’re the only person she has left. What about Ned? MJ? Morgan? Morgan needs you. She sees you as a brother now. They all need you. Are you just going to leave them behind?_

Peter wants to cry.

 _Why can’t I be selfish?_ It’s a deep-rooted thought, springing up from the worst corners of his soul, and it immediately makes him feel ashamed. _Why? I don’t - I don’t want to do this. I can’t. I can’t. Why can’t I be selfish, just this once?_

Selfishness isn’t apart of Peter. Whoever made him, whoever created the fundamental parts of who he is, they didn’t add selfishness. They added sacrifice, and sadness, and sorrow so deep he can’t get out of it, but they didn’t add the ability to be selfish. That’s never even been something he could do.

_Why do I have to play the hero?_

He knows why. He’s known why ever since there was something to know.

He looks up at Tony, blinking away tears so he can see him properly. He’s the same as ever - unruly hair, intelligent eyes, a posture that screams self-importance. It’s easy to see why everyone had thought he was just another arrogant, egotistical billionaire, because that’s how he carries himself, how he presents himself to the world. But somehow, somewhere down the line, Peter had slipped past that facade and saw what was behind it. Insecurities a mile wide but a heart even bigger, love and affection clouded by fear and doubt.

"I’m sorry," Peter chokes out, not knowing exactly what he’s apologizing for. "I’m sorry."

Tony doesn’t respond at first. He takes his hand in his own, running a thumb across his knuckles.

"There’s nothing to be sorry about," he says after a pause. "There isn’t a right choice here, Pete."

_Then why do I have to make it?_

"But you want me to go back too, don’t you?" Peter blurts out, regretting it as soon as he says it. His cheeks color. "I - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have - "

"No," Tony interrupts. His hold on his hand doesn’t falter. "No, kid, listen. What I want is for you to be happy. And if that takes staying? That’s okay. If that takes going? That’s okay too. I’ll wait for you, no matter what."

Peter goes silent. There are so many things he wants to say, but no words come. Then, randomly, the light above their table flickers, and Tony sighs. For the first time, his expression betrays him, and he looks sad.

"You.. you’re fading, Pete. It’s been too long. You have to choose soon."

Fading? Peter almost goes to ask what that means, but then it clicks. He’s getting to the point of no return, where he won’t be able to be saved. Where he’ll be.. dead, permanently, and go wherever dead people go.

"I have to.. I have to go back."

Tony nods, like he had expected that answer all along. "You’ve got a life out there, yeah? Go live it."

Reluctantly sliding out of the booth, Peter’s shoes squeak against the floor as he faces Tony, who gets up as well.

"I’ll miss you,” he stammers. "I’ve missed you so much, Mister Stark, it’s been so hard, I don’t - "

Tony shushes him gently, moving closer so he can wrap his arms around him, and Peter clings to it like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. He wants to stay here. He wants to sink into this hug and not come back from it.

But he can’t.

"I know, kid, I know," Tony whispers. "I’m sorry. You’ve been really strong."

Despite Peter not willing to let go, they have to. They stand across from each other, trying to drink in every detail that they’d lost. Tony smiles once more, though it’s bittersweet.

"Hey, Peter?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Say hi to Morgan for me."

"Mister Stark, I - "

Everything around him disappears. It’s not darkness, no, because Peter knows what darkness is and this isn’t it. This.. this is nothing. This is less than nothing. It’s like someone plucked out his sight and dropped him off in the middle of the nearest black hole. He can’t hear anything anymore - not his heartbeat, not the roar of blood in his ears that always accompanies silence, nothing. It’s like nonexistence snatched him up and took what made him human before he could even register it happening.

In the span of what feels like a split second and an eternity at the same time, Peter is thrown so violently back into his body that all of his senses hit him at breakneck speed. There’s something shoved down his throat, making him gag, and so much noise that it becomes meaningless TV static. White floods into view, and what sounds both like a gasp and a sob rips itself out of his mouth. Nothing becomes something out of nowhere and this something is everywhere, sending shock waves of pain through him until it’s all he is.

Words are being shouted all around him, words he normally knows but doesn’t understand in this haze, like _blood loss_ and _critical condition_ and _we need to sedate him_ and it’s funny, in some messed up way, because they don’t know that meds don’t work on him. A crazed laugh bubbles up at that, and then he’s crying too, crying and laughing and crying. He probably looks deranged but it doesn’t even matter anymore, doesn’t even mean anything because so what? So what if he is crazy? Peter isn’t okay. He has never been okay, and this just proves it. 

Sleep pulls at him insistently, and he follows it. It has to be better than this.

-

He wakes up.

That’s the most annoying thing, he thinks. Waking up.

He wakes up to the _beep beep beep_ of a heart monitor and the whir of machines. He wakes up to dim hospital lights and May passed out in the chair beside him. What he doesn’t wake up to, though, is an exasperated Tony, to a lecture on how he really needs to stop ending up in situations like these, to a ruffle of his hair and a _you’ll be the death of me, I swear._ Peter doesn’t wake up to any of that, and it makes the grief so much more raw.

But May’s here. And oddly enough, even with the renewed grief that’s nearly unbearable, there’s a little bundle of hope in his chest, hope saying that it’ll all be okay.

That has to count for something.

**Author's Note:**

> me, uploading this when i should be studying for finals because i have them all week: self-care
> 
> this was directly inspired by irondad-fic-ideas on tumblr, who posted:
> 
> "So i found out today that a person can die and be resuscitated after like 30 minutes? Who wants to be the jerk who writes a story where…
> 
> -Peter is having a bad day and gets shot/stabbed/etc 
> 
> -he dies on the way to the hospital
> 
> -while dead, he meets up with Tony and gets a pep talk from him
> 
> -he comes back to life and is happy he got to see tony"
> 
> and it's definitely one of the more.. creative things i've done so shoutout to them for the idea!


End file.
